


The Calm during the Storm

by GeeLiz_98



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, First Meetings, M/M, Strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 05:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16510589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeeLiz_98/pseuds/GeeLiz_98
Summary: Chanyeol is new to the city yet the downtrodden man he meets one miserable evening makes him feel much closer to home. Baekhyun meets his missing puzzle piece.





	The Calm during the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Ok...now...I wrote this like 2 years ago and it is shit but it's gathering dust on my laptop so someone might as well read it. (I haven't asked anyone to proofread it but I literally teach English and I promise the grammar is tolerable.)

It was absolutely pissing it down. The rain was not simply showering that night. Oh no. Cold water tumbled out of the sky falling towards the London streets, hitting every person, every car, running out of every drain and overflowing from every gutter. Each individual drop was huge enough to soak someone through and those unlucky enough to get caught out in the downpour rushed about to find shelter. Taxis skidded to the sides of the street to offer respite for tourists and pub crawlers who had a penny to spare for the fee, spraying puddle water on less fortunate pedestrians in the process. The students and graveyard shift workers among us who didn’t have the money to spare for the luxury of a taxi home.

One of these students, in particular, was the young Park Chanyeol, music student at the University of London. 

When he had decided to move to London to study, people had warned him about the rain. “You better take an umbrella with you,” they would say with a snigger, “and maybe some wellingtons to boot.” This seemed rather unnecessary to Chanyeol, after all, it wasn’t like it never rained in Korea. What was the big deal? That question would soon be answered the second he stepped off the plane at Heathrow airport for the very first time. The sky was a murky grey, the air smelled damp- like wet petrol with a hint of…farmyard? – and people around him started to reach for conveniently located raincoats as the first few drops fell then like a tap had been turned on, the heavens opened up. This was the first of many reminders that when in England, you are never far from water. Sure, it made for picturesque, green scenery but it also led to many bad hair-dos and the odd wet sock- very unpleasant. 

Chanyeol had learned his lesson since then and was very rarely caught short. He reckoned that counted as assimilation into the English way of life. Except on this particular day. There had been a late-night lecture at the Royal Albert Hall; some music maestro was doing a comprehensive talk on music theory and all students were encouraged to attend. This kind of opportunity was not one a first-year music student passed up. Nevertheless, it was now 11pm and Chanyeol wished he had just gone to bed. His student flat was 15 minutes away and he was soaked to the core, dressed for the summer evening he had left home to just 5 hours before. He was hoping he could snatch a lift from his friend Hayley’s dad but, for some reason, he was under the impression Chanyeol had a ‘thing’ for Hayley and wouldn’t let him anywhere near the car. Sure, Hayley was lovely: a fiery red-head who was larger than life and one of best friends but she was not his type.

Despite all of this, he did have his satchel to shelter himself from the rain and he walked- or more so jogged- towards the nearest tube station, glad he had opted for his natural curls that day instead of brushing them out. Hayley had said brushing them out made him look ‘smart’ and he did admit that his head resembled a poodle at times but he was too disorganised most days to care. He rushed through the streets, eyes blurred by the water as it formed a film on his glasses, able to see nothing but the harsh lights from Taxis and neon signs on takeaway shops. The streetlights appeared in double like he was looking through a waterfall. Every Taxi that passed seemed more taunting than the last as a student without a spare penny for such luxuries and left him with nothing but discomfort as their engines rumbled past and their lights glared at him. Why was it that these things were always so overwhelming when one was also extremely cold and wet? 

After ten more paces, he had decided he had had enough. He needed shelter. He was also quite aware that he hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. Off in the distance, Chanyeol spotted one particular sign on the front of a Chinese takeaway, flashing to let the world know it was ‘open’. It seemed a bit far and he could have taken refuge in the chip shop he was already stood in front of but, honestly, the smell of kebabs wafting outside made his stomach churn and forced his legs to keep walking. There is no secret as to why people only eat that crap when they are drunk. He took a brisk walk which left his socks even wetter and, after what seemed like a lifetime and a very intense wash, he reached the door, pushed it forwards, and was greeted by a bell above his head. 

The bright lights automatically made him flinch, a massive shock after the dingy city outside but the smell of delicious food and the warmth that hit his frozen cheeks were very welcoming indeed and he knew he had made a good choice. The sound of the fryers and feeling of steam alone made his stomach rumble. As he regained his sight- not neglecting to clean the rainwater from his glasses first- and looked around the shop, he finally came to his senses. 

There were two other people inside the small room with tiled walls and a tiled floor, and one table in the front right corner. It had two seats; one facing the front counter and one facing the shop window. At the window seat was an old man who looked very drunk but after assessment, he didn’t look like he would be of any threat. He was slouched over, the hoods of both his parka jacket and grey tracksuit covering his head as he focused all of his attention on rolling up cigarettes on the table. This was probably not too hygienic. 

“Want one?” he caught Chanyeol staring, “I need someone to take them off my hands. The Old Bill are after me, the bastards, so I ain’t going to smoke ‘em tonight.” 

The man’s thick cockney accent was made less discernible by his lack of teeth but Chanyeol knew he didn’t want a cigarette, so he shook his head, “no thank you,” he said. The old man shrugged his shoulders with an expression that implied it was Chanyeol’s loss and went back to rolling.

“I’ll have it,” the other person said. Chanyeol’s ears pricked up at the sound of his voice. The young man stood to his left leaning up against the stark white wall spoke with a Korean accent, something familiar to him but foreign in this small room. He hadn’t heard one in months. At that moment, he felt incredibly home-sick but his sadness didn’t last for long as the conversation between the two men dragged him back to the room. 

“Thank you!” the old man shouted with glee, “Cheers, mate, you’re a lifesaver!” He hobbled out of his seat to pass over the contraband with a toothy grin. He was a sad sight. His tracksuit was soaked through by the rain and the dampness made released the smell of smoke and alcohol from his clothes. Not the typical appearance of an elderly man around the same age as Chanyeol’s own grandfather. What had brought him here on this night? 

“No problem,” said the other man with a massive grin, “You wouldn’t want to get caught by the police with all this skunk on you.”

The other man cackled as Chanyeol’s body froze up. Skunk? That was cannabis. These men were exchanging drugs. What kind of takeaway was this?! He turned to leave, not wanting to be present when the police (o _ h my God _ !) turned up but forgot about this train of thought when the owner of the shop stepped up to the till.

“Hey! Jack! You are banned. I have told you before not to come back. We have a reputation to maintain here, we don’t need you and your dealer people destroying it! Got that? Get Out!” She was an older woman, around 60, but was clear why she managed to hold onto a business in such a manic area. You wouldn’t want to cross her and she certainly seemed to be able to hold her own. 

The owner clearly hadn’t seen the previous exchange so, as ‘Jack’ waltzed out with a roll of his eyes and a tut, she turned to the young man to take his order, his joint stealthily hidden from view. 

“Special Fried Rice, please…and a can of coke, too,” he said. 

As he stood at the counter, Chanyeol gave him the once over. He was quite short. Shorter than Chanyeol, anyway but taller than the woman at the till which made him average height at best. His hair was light brown and styled to give him slight curls and a sweeping fringe. He was definitely wearing eyeliner. Quite a lot of it and it had run slightly making him look incredibly tired. In fact, his eyes were rather bloodshot, making it seem as though he had recently been crying, or smoking which Chanyeol doubted somehow. He was wearing a leather jacket and a red floral shirt with the skinniest jeans possible before circulation to the head was lost, all finished off by a pair of bright red Doc Martens. He had even switched the laces to white ones with red roses. Chanyeol had to admit, the guy was stunning. He looked a mess, honestly, but he was still the most beautiful man Chanyeol had ever seen in a takeaway at midnight on a Wednesday…ever. He was very well dressed and stood with his head held high. He was the sort of guy that people see and assume for world works in their favour. They are so beautiful that you couldn’t imagine anything bad coming their way. They have everything anyone could want in this world. This man was everything Chanyeol wanted in this world. 

Chanyeol was so mesmerised that he almost didn’t hear the owner calling him forward to take his order. This caused him to fumble over his words a bit because he was so distracted he didn’t even know what he wanted yet. “erm...I…erm,” this was suddenly the most difficult decision in the world, “some barbeque ribs, please?” The lady nodded and moved towards the kitchen to prepare both orders and Chanyeol let out a relieved sigh. Not nutritious and not his favourite but he had to make a quick decision.   

Then the cute guy giggled. 

“You struggling there?” he asked with a smirk. 

Chanyeol looked at him in disdain. First, the guy does drugs and now he is rude too? Great. The two men made brief eye contact, however, and the sparkle in cute guy’s blood-shot eyes meant all was immediately forgiven. People like him made Chanyeol very irritated. 

“No, I am not. There is just a lot of choice,” Chanyeol quipped in defence. 

“Sure,” the guy replied with another smirk which cut Chanyeol through right to the chest, “hey, where are you from?” he asked. 

“Korea.”

“Well, obviously but  _ where?” _

The guy was looking at Chanyeol like he was stupid which made Chanyeol feel like he was very vulnerable and he began to tremble with nerves. Irritating. 

“Seoul,” he said bluntly. 

“Nice.” 

Conversation apparently over. Cute guy turned to the counter, mesmerised by the action coming from the kitchen visible only through a chain curtain hung from the door frame. Chanyeol wasn’t at all interested. His Mom owned a cafe back at home and seeing the industrial cookers and dishwashers just stressed him out. It would be nice to talk to someone in his first language, though. He was completely fluent in English, sure, but the homesickness was so strong he thought it might quell it. Clearly, cute guy was not a talker. Chanyeol was a talker. He was a nervous talker, too, so he bit his tongue so as not to say anything stupid. 

They stood in an awkward silence then for about 10 minutes. Cute guy seemed very distracted as he turned around and stared out of the shop window, looking at nothing in particular through glazed eyes, the bustling streets and horrendous weather clearly having no effect on him. He was in his own world. Even Chanyeol’s nervous fidgeting, facilitated by a pen on the counter which he rolled aimlessly, didn’t release him from his daydream. 

Cute guy was eventually brought back to earth when his food was placed on the counter, Chanyeol’s immediately adjacent. “That will be £5.70, please,” she said to cute guy. He reached into his pocket, sifting through pound coins. Then, his eyebrows drew together and his hand began to shake, there was even a hint of trembling in his top lip. 

“I am sorry,” he said, clearly choking back tears, “I am 70 pence short. I…” he was cut off by the sobs in his own throat. 

All the smarminess and confidence that oozed out of the guy from before had dissolved out of him, leaving a young man who was clearly having a bad night. After all, how many people find themselves alone, clearly crying, scrounging for cigarettes, in a takeaway at midnight on a Wednesday? 

The owner looked at him with sad eyes as his shoulders dropped and he turned to the door. Chanyeol looked after him. He couldn’t just let him go. He didn’t know who the guy was, he didn’t know why he was where he was, in the state he was in but he couldn’t let him go. So he spoke up, “Hey! Don’t go! I have 70 pence.” 

Cute guy froze with his hand on the door, clearly thinking it over. What felt like an eternity passed and he didn’t show sign of movement. Then, eventually, he let out a sad sigh and turned around. He was really crying now and his eyeliner had reached below his eyes. He lifted his eyes directly level with Chanyeol’s, the pity in them laid out for the world to see, and nodded. 

“Okay,” he said in barely a whisper. 

“Would you like both meals then?” the lady asked Chanyeol and he nodded. He hoped the cute guy wasn’t embarrassed by his forwardness and he passed over the money. He thanked the lady and carried the food over to cute guy who was now sitting at the seat Jack had occupied before. His presence was the only contrast in interior other than that provided by an aloe vera pot plant on the metal table. Random but it was keeping cute guy distracted as he fumbled with its prickly leaves, seemingly not wanting to look at Chanyeol. 

After some deliberation, Chanyeol opted to sit down with cute guy. He wondered if the other man would rather be left alone- after all, they were complete strangers- but he was concerned about him and, as an extra incentive, he wasn’t ready to face the elements again just yet. Besides, the ribs would be cold by the time he got them home. 

He took the food boxes out of the carrier bags and placed them on the table, passing the other man his coke and opening his own box of ribs. He immediately regretted his decision to order them when he couldn’t find any serviettes and remembered that he was in the presence of a very attractive man who wouldn’t want to see him devour his food in an uncivilised manner. Then again, this guy clearly had his own stuff going on and was probably straight knowing Chanyeol’s luck - why would he care what Chanyeol looked like when he was eating?  _ Whatever, _ he thought and dug in, the sweet taste alerting him to how hungry he had been. 

Cute guy also reached for his food. He very slowly took a fork from the container on the table and went to take a bite of his food. The first two bites he ate tentatively. Cautiously. Chanyeol thought he was probably a bit uncomfortable accepting the food, knowing it was bought for him by some random guy he had never met. By the third bite, however, this was clearly forgotten, and he practically inhaled the entire meal, even guzzling down half the can of coke before Chanyeol had eaten two ribs. 

He looked up then, the guilt flooding into his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” He then straightened up like a pin suddenly and reached to his trouser pocket, digging out 5 one pound coins, the spliff and a bus ticket, dumping the lot on the table. “That is all the money I can give you…sorry.”

Chanyeol swallowed the food in his mouth and looked up at him with a kind smile. “It is okay, don’t worry about it-“

“No way! Do I look like a charity case to you?” The other man didn’t like this suggestion and seemed quite angry. He immediately calmed down though when he saw Chanyeol practically jump out of his skin, as well as his eyes widening in shock.

“Sorry. I mean...it is fine. Your company is enough. I don’t need extra money, too.” 

The cute guy smiled then. It was a sad smile, sure, but it made his face glow, his eyes sparkling, his tears glistening below the artificial lighting. Chanyeol’s breath became caught in his throat. 

“As long as you are sure,” he managed and a nod was the only reply. 

The silence dragged on for a while longer then. The two made eye contact every now and then, nothing but meek smiles exchanged until Chanyeol passed the other man a rib which he accepted gratefully. Then the taller man decided to break the silence once more, “Hey, I never asked your name.”

“No, you didn’t. You should at least ask a guy’s name before buying him dinner,” he teased. Chanyeol stuck his tongue out, forcing the other to laugh and say, “Baekhyun. My name is Baekhyun. You?”

“Chanyeol.” 

“Ah. Chan. Yeol.” He repeated the words as though he were making a mental note of them, separating each syllable carefully. “Awesome, Chanyeol.” 

Not wanting to break the silence, Chanyeol pushed on, “So, what brings you here on this delightful night?”

“Nosey.”

Chanyeol felt sick. Shit. He had been too forward.  _ Way to go _ . His inability to resist the flow from his brain to his mouth was the reason he was still single. 

“Red-faced nosey.”

“Huh?” What was Baekhyun talking about?

“You’ve turned red…” Baekhyun was playing to a tough crowd, clearly, “Doesn’t matter. Who is asking?”

“Me, obviously.”

“You tell me first, nosey.” 

“Fine. I went to a music lecture at the Royal Albert Hall for university. It finished really late and I came here to shelter from the rain. Why are you here?”

“How old are you?” Baekhyun dodged the question again. 

“21, you?”

“What is your surname, nosey?”

“Park. You?”

The smaller man lost it at that. Apparently, Chanyeol missed the joke and the bewildered look on his face led Baekhyun to explain his sudden amusement. 

“Nosey Park-er. It is a thing English people say. It is funny because-“

“Yeah, I get it,” he had to admit, that was a new one and it definitely cheered up the other man who had been so sad before. He would let it go. 

“Seriously though,” Chanyeol pressed, “answer my question.”

“Fine. I am 22 years old and my surname is Byun. Happy now?”

“No. Not that question…Are you alright?”

“You didn’t ask that question.” 

“Seriously!”

“Yeah, seriously. You didn’t ask that before.”

“Fucking hell!” This guy was bloody irritating. 

Baekhyun flinched as Chanyeol raised his voice and the laughter left his eyes. 

“Sorry.”

The silence seemed there to stay then and Chanyeol was ready to take the 5 pounds and brave the journey home when Baekhyun suddenly spoke. 

“If you must know- why I am here- well, let’s say I am having a bit of a shit night,” he laughed but it was a dry sort of laugh, no joy in it at all, “a shit day, in fact.”

Chanyeol shifted back in his seat to face Baekhyun, surprised he was actually going to open up and pleased, mostly because it gave him an excuse to stay with the beautiful, mysterious man a little longer; he would get a glimpse of his world, something Chanyeol didn’t deserve after his outburst. He was all ears, scared to even flinch in case the other man changed his mind and left his life forever.

“First of all, I am basically homeless now so I need somewhere to sit to dry off and this place fit the bill.” He paused to glance around the room. “I was also hungry because I haven’t eaten since 7 am this morning. At 7:30 am I was kicked out of my home. Why? You may be thinking…”

It was posed as a question. Chanyeol opted to shake his head. 

“Nosey is a liar” he bobbed out a bright pink tongue, “…Anyway, I was dumped, that is why.” Then, he started to cry again. Softly. His shoulders trembling slightly with the force of his sadness.

“Seriously? Who in their right mind would dump you!? She must be an idiot.”

“Oh, shut up, Chanyeol.” He sniffled and smiled a little. The other man’s effort to cheer him up made his dead heart warm. Maybe he did care. So, he carried on, “My boyfriend.  _ He  _ is who…” He sniffled again and wiped his nose with the back of his hand ever so gracefully.

Chanyeol ignored the fact that the other man was actually gay after all and remained attentive. He didn’t need a miserably single music student pining after him at that moment. 

“He must be delirious to dump someone as pretty as you.” Casual flirt for good measure.

“Maybe. Or just a dickhead. Heechul. His name is Heechul.” More tears. “He is a postgraduate at my university. An older guy. Cool right? False. A manipulative twat? Definitely.”

“What happened?” Curiosity got the better of Chanyeol but he had a feeling Baekhyun wanted to talk. 

“One whole year together. I had even moved into his flat. We lived together. So very domestic,” he rolled his eyes into the back of his head. “I thought I loved him. In fact, I do love him, so much. I thought he loved me too. He made me feel really special, he treated me like I was the only person in the world. He would tell me I was beautiful. ‘You are so gorgeous, Baekkie, no one on earth could replace you.’”

He scoffed, spitting pure venom into the warm, moist air and Chanyeol wanted to reach across the table to steady his shaking hands. He sobbed through gritted teeth and shook his head looking at his hands. 

“You know the type of guy though? The one who feigns love but he just wants to get in your bed. You think someone finally sees you as an actual human being and then they turn out to just be the same as everyone else. You are a place filler. A hot piece of ass to fill time until someone good comes along. You know?”

Chanyeol didn’t know, of course. He had only had one boyfriend. Rick. He was alright. All passion and politics. Always banging on about protests and campaigns which Chanyeol had no interest in prior to their relationship, nor did he have an interest afterwards. Rick wasn’t love material but he was nice enough. They both knew the relationship was to pass time until someone better came along. Sadly, in Baekhyun’s case, he didn’t know. So Chanyeol nodded anyway, to make Baekhyun feel a bit better. 

“Bulllshit. It was all bullshit, Chanyeol. Last night, we slept together. It was amazing. It always was. He’d always fall asleep telling me how wonderful I was, I’d always tell him I loved him. He would never say it back but I always thought he was being coy.” A smile formed behind his eyes. Damn. He had it bad for this Heechul guy. “Well, I woke up to an empty bed and had been left a note. I found it by the kitchen sink this morning at 7:30 am. Do you know what it said?”

Chanyeol wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

“It said, ‘To Baekhyun’-Baekhyun by the way, so fucking formal, ‘To Baekhyun, I am sorry but I am leaving you for someone else’” He hesitated. “It just isn’t working. You are too young and I don’t love you. Sorry. Sam is moving in this evening so you will have to pack your bags. Have a good life.”

Chanyeol wanted to cry for Baekhyun then. The whole thing was so awful and Heechul definitely deserved a punch. How could anyone leave their boyfriend in such a state? He wanted to say all of this. He wanted to hug the frail man before him. Tell him he was loveable and that he was a valuable person, not just fodder. That he was beautiful outside but beautiful inside too. He wanted to destroy the men who had used him and chucked him to the gutter. But, for once in his life, the bridge between his mind and mouth had collapsed and he instead settled for six empty words. 

“Oh, Baek, I am so sorry.”

  
  


*** 

After a short time, consisting of Baekhyun silently sobbing in front of a complete stranger about how pathetic his life was, the two men were thrown out of the takeaway.

“Sorry, boys! Closing time!” The owner shouted from the kitchen. Not the words someone who had nowhere else to go wanted to hear. Chanyeol stood up immediately and headed for the door, politely thanking the owner on his way out, before he stopped in his tracks, realising he wasn’t being followed. 

“Come on, Baekhyun,” he said softly, “it isn’t like we have any choice.”

Baekhyun pretended he couldn’t hear. He didn’t have to move. No one could make him move. He would get a job there and sleep on the floor. He could cook Chinese food. It couldn’t be that hard to learn. What other choice did he have? No one in the world gave half a damn about him. That came as a nasty surprise and the least he deserved when he had lost control of everything else in his life was to be able to choose to stay put. 

If someone had have told him that his life would have ended up like this, honestly, he would almost have believed them. He always made the wrong decision. He always chose the wrong guy. He always fell for the one-night-stand. He never fell for the nice guys and the evil bastards were drawn to him like iron to a magnet. But they always left him so easily too. Not even a goodbye half the time. 

Heechul seemed different though and, if there was one thing Baekhyun had learned that day, it was that looks can be deceiving. 

Baekhyun had just moved to London when he met Heechul. He was having a rough time of it. He didn’t know anyone, he had just started a degree in business (for some reason; he couldn’t think of anything else) and he was finding it a bit tough. London was just too massive, too overwhelming and, frankly he hated it.

That all changed however on ‘freshers’ week’. This week came one month after he moved to England and was a time spent getting to know other students at the university. Although Baekhyun didn’t drink very much and didn’t like the idea of sitting with strangers in the university bar, he knew it was the only chance he would get to meet new people. So, off he went. 

Hours that evening he had spent getting ready; he had to make a good and lasting first impression. After much deliberation and about 10 outfit changes, he finally settled for something respectable: ill-fitting denim jeans with flowers embroidered down one side, white converse and a black silk shirt, done up just above middle of his chest and half untucked. He even finished it off with red eyeshadow. His outfit was important. No one questions the eccentric guy with red eyeshadow. He doesn’t give a fuck about anything, clearly. You can’t mess with him. Or at least that was the idea anyway. 

Then off he went. Walking to the bar, he felt sick to his stomach. The single slice of toast he had eaten for dinner was making a reappearance and he was sweating so much that his effortlessly flowy shirt was becoming a disgustingly clingy shirt. Hot. His legs were shaking like the autumn leaves falling from the trees and he was so flustered he hardly noticed how cold the air was. In fact, he was so distracted his vision was tunnelling and he didn’t even notice the people bustling around him. 

This all changed when he reached the pub doors, however. Now was the time for ‘party’ Baekhyun. The Baekhyun he wanted everyone to think he was. This Baekhyun didn’t get nervous or phase out or get sweaty and fumbly. No. This Baekhyun was funny, witty, smart, sexy and desirable. The person everyone wanted him to be. That was how he would make friends. So, with a deep breath, he straightened his back, held his head high and walked into the pub with his best foot forward. 

Half an hour passed before anyone spoke to him and he was beginning to get incredibly bored. He was too nervous to buy a drink so instead opted for looking cool yet approachable, a difficult balance to meet. It didn’t work at all and he was just about to get himself ready to leave and possibly go home and cry when a drink was placed in front of him. It was a pint of beer and, although Baekhyun didn’t like beer, he immediately decided he was going to drink it all. His head shot up and he looked up at the man before him, doe-eyed and bewildered. 

“Hi.” He said. Simple but with a smile. 

Baekhyun took in every inch of him and took a sharp breath in. He was definitely an older guy, late twenties maybe early thirties but he looked so young. His hair was bleached blonde and cut into a sweeping fringe which framed his eyes perfectly. Baekhyun couldn’t believe his luck so he swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke as clear as day. 

“Hello.”

“Hope you don’t mind my forwardness and don’t take this the wrong way, but I couldn’t help but notice how good you look sat there. I wanted to ask why no one had bought someone as good-looking as you a drink.” Full-on. That was the way Baekhyun liked it. He understood all the signs. 

“Maybe they have no taste” Party Baekhyun was here for the night. 

That earned a roar of laughter, “Wow! Confident. I like it.” He sat down, quite close to Baekhyun but not invading his space. “I am Heechul by the way.”

“Baekhyun.”

That was it. Heechul was so easy to talk to and Baekhyun had let his guard down within one hour, no longer needing to pretend. Heechul found his shyness endearing and it was such a relief. The drinks started flowing, the two moved closer and closer together and, by last orders, they were kissing deeply for the room to see. 

One week later they went on a proper date. To the cinema. Baekhyun couldn’t recall the film because he was watching his boyfriend watching the film, desperate to get outside so that he could kiss him again or maybe even more. He wasn’t disappointed. It was that night, falling asleep in Heechul’s arms that Baekhyun decided he loved him. 

One month later, they lived together. Baekhyun had moved into Heechul’s flat upon request. They spent so much time together it made sense. They would lay on the bed in the centre of the studio flat together studying, the younger man would focus on his first-year texts while the older man prepared for his final exams, with the occasional make-out session for good measure. They had each other so the outside world didn’t matter anymore. Baekhyun had his Heechul and with him, he would stay. 

One year later, Baekhyun was standing in a Chinese takeaway with no friends, no home and definitely no Heechul. He was a mess and no one, not even the nice guy who bought his dinner and listened to his whining could make him move. 

“I’m not moving, Chanyeol.”

“Come one. You have to.”

“And where the fuck do you suggest I go!?” 

The tears fell again and he stormed out of the shop and let the door slam behind him. The rain had stopped but it was freezing and all he could do was sit on the pavement and sob like the pathetic man he was. 

A bell rang above his heaves and the door to the shop swung shut and Baekhyun guessed that Chanyeol had left. It made sense. Everyone left. 

“Hey. Come here.” 

Slowly, Baekhyun lifted his head to see Chanyeol towering above him, a dopey yet concerned look on his face with his arms stretched out. 

Baekhyun grimaced at him, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Offering you a hug.”

“I don’t want to have sex with you.”

Chanyeol just looked confused at that so Baekhyun decided he could trust the taller man and stood up, only to be wrapped in his long and very muscular arms. For the first time since that morning, he relaxed. The hug was so warm and even more comforting than Heechul’s had been, the smell of aftershave a welcome change from car fumes. It was nice. 

“Where are you going to stay tonight, Baek?”

Baek? No one called him that before, not even Heechul. That was nice, too. Chanyeol seemed very nice. Sadly though, Baekhyun couldn’t stand like this all night and he would soon be released from his grip and thrown back into the cold reality. So he kept his mouth shut to stall for time. 

“Hmm?” Chanyeol pressed again, softly like a doting mother, so calmly and kindly that it made Baekhyun start crying again. No one had been this kind to him in a long time. Even Heechul had begun to distance himself to the point where he didn’t spare a second for his boyfriend. When he thought about it, Baekhyun shouldn’t have been surprised by the fate of their relationship. Heechul just couldn’t give Baekhyun what he needed anymore and, being so young and naïve, Baekhyun couldn’t live up to expectation either. It was all just a sad, shit and unavoidable turn of events.

Chanyeol did something unexpected then. He ran his fingers through Baekhyun’s hair, causing him to gasp in surprise. This was different from the last time someone did the same just the night before. It was softer, more delicate. More desired and more sincere. It encouraged Baekhyun to open up to the owner of the hand once again. 

“I have nowhere to stay. I have no money. No friends. No family here. Nothing.” He looked into Chanyeol’s eyes then and choked with a raspy voice, “what the hell am I going to do?”

There was a pause. It wasn’t like Chanyeol could solve all of his problems and this was clear by the way his face twisted into a worried frown. Quickly, however, his expression shifted and his eyes widened, as well as his mouth, into a giant smile. Dork. 

“You can stay with me!!”

Baekhyun thought he was hearing things. hallucinating out of sheer desperation. This man was actually a saint in the flesh. Baekhyun could have kissed him. All notions of sleeping in doorways were expelled from his mind and he practically jumped for joy.

“Are you serious?! Do not mess with me Chanyeol!”

He let out a belly laugh and assured Baekhyun that he was very serious. 

“Sure. I mean, you will have to sleep on the sofa but it is better than sleeping on the streets.”

It certainly was that so Baekhyun nodded vigorously and jumped out of Chanyeol’s warm arms to stand straight. He wobbled a little, possibly from fatigue (what time was it anyway?) and grabbed onto Chanyeol’s scraggy beige cardigan to steady himself. 

The two walked to the tube in a comfortable silence and spent the ride home the same way. At one point, the fatigue really overtook Baekhyun causing him to nod off to sleep, only to be awoken when his head hit Chanyeol’s shoulder. The solid knock to his head jolted him awake and an equally sleepy Chanyeol smiled at him softly and whispered, “not far to go now,” and the silence resumed. The two were too tired for small talk and Baekhyun had already revealed half of his life story to this guy, he could reciprocate in the morning. He surely owed Baekhyun that much. Honestly, Baekhyun was so tired, he could hardly remember who the man was he was sitting next to. For all he knew he could be currently sat with a murderer who was transporting him to his timely death. But Chanyeol seemed too nice and his shoulder was too warm and, frankly, Baekhyun was too exhausted to care. 

The walk up the stairs was even more relentless than the tube ride home and Baekhyun was contemplating sleeping on one of the landings. Maybe if he had have known that Chanyeol lived on the sixth floor, he would have slept in a doorway after all. Although, the block of flats was very warm and Chanyeol’s apartment was even warmer with warm lighting and soft carpets and Baekhyun was overwhelmed by relief when Chanyeol pointed to the sofa all but 2 foot from the front door and told him that was his bed for the night. 

“It isn’t much. Sorry,” he said as he fiddled with the stiff lock on his door and kicked his shoes off. Baekhyun had left his boots on, completely abandoning all pleasantries upon seeing his bed for the night. 

“It is more than fine, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun began removing his boots and put them by the door and handed his jacket to Chanyeol who hung it on the hanger by the door. 

Baekhyun didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He wanted to sleep more than anything but he was in a strange place with a strange man in the worst of circumstances which made him feel inclined to stay awake a little longer. Just to let the day sink in. So he sat on the sofa looking around the small flat while its owner walked into a room to the back of the flat. 

It was a small flat but it was clearly a loving home. The main part of the flat was the joint living room and kitchen. The kitchen to the corner of the room was very small and basic, obviously more of a necessity than a treasured area of the house. The living room, however, took up three-quarters of the space and was rather pretty. The sofa was decorated with numerous cushions of all patterns and colours and Baekhyun’s feet rested upon a fluffy baby blue rug which tickled his bare toes. The walls were covered with posters and paintings of everything from musicians and actors to famous landmarks. Not a patch was left clear and fairy lights in the shape of hearts and starts hung haphazardly from the ceiling. The decor was reminiscent of a teenager’s bedroom. The only area not covered in pictures was a large bookcase cluttered, not with books, but every CD the mind could possibly imagine. 

Baekhyun was sat mesmerised by the eclectic music selection when Chanyeol walked over to him and passed him a mug of piping hot tea.

“It is decaf. I hope that is alright. I thought it would warm you up after the rain.” Baekhyun noted that the other man didn’t have one himself. He had gone to the trouble just for him and that mad Baekhyun so very happy. He could have cried again and he was surprised by how emotional he had been all day. He was also surprised by how low his standards appeared to be. The guy had only made him a cup of tea for God’s sake!

“T-thank you, Chanyeol.” 

“No problem.” He stood around awkwardly, mouth bobbing like a fish like he was going to say something, rubbing his hand through his hair (or more precisely the sleeve of his pyjama top that was far too big for him) and Baekhyun had to note that it was quite cute. Then he finally spoke, “There is a nightshirt and some pyjama shorts in the bathroom. Help yourself to whatever...I am off to sleep.” Then he walked off into the back room and shut the door. 

Baekhyun stared at his back as it disappeared and watched his old life disappear behind the door with him. The gravity of that night weighed him down to the ground. For the first time his head felt as though it wasn't in the clouds. His brightest dreams had walked right in front of him. As real as he was breathing in that quiet room. 


End file.
